


Personally, I Blame the Coffee

by azriona



Series: Yuuri on Ice Tumblr Ficlets [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Ficlet, M/M, Makkachin Lives, Romantic Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: Victor is in love with the Cute Asian Guy. They're going to take their dogs on a walk, have a date, fall in love, get married, and have lots of sex and babies. Just as soon as Victor learns Cute Asian Guy's name.





	Personally, I Blame the Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from an anonymous prompter, who hopefully giggles as much while reading as I did while writing. Exact prompt at the end of the fic. Tumblr post can be found [here](http://azriona.tumblr.com/post/173297888493/could-you-do-a-reverse-fic-with-yuuri-being-all</a).
> 
>  **Trigger Warning** for Makkachin needing medical assistance and brief description of doggie illness. Happy ending, though, I promise.

“Omg, idiot,” groaned Yuri. He stood behind Victor, who was still crouching in front of the chalk signboard advertising the coffee shop where they both worked. “Seriously?”

“You hated the poem I used yesterday, so I decided to branch out.” Victor sat back on his heels and scrutinized his handiwork. “I think it’s a pretty good likeness, don’t you?”

“No,” groused Yuri, but Victor heard the begrudging approval anyway. Yuri turned on his heel and stomped back into the coffee shop. The bell on the door rang merrily.

The burn in Victor’s legs was almost pleasant when he stood up to stretch. It was still early in the morning; the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and pedestrians were beginning to appear on the dew-stained streets. Victor pushed his hands up into the sky, feeling his spine extend. Crouching over the blackboard trying to draw Makkachin in chalk wasn’t exactly the most comfortable of positions, but he thought the end result was pretty good.

Of course, it’d only be _really_ good if it drew more customers, but time would tell.

The bell on the door chimed again.

“Hey, idiot!” yelled Yuri. “We’re _open_ , are you coming in or not?”

“Just now,” said Victor, glancing at the approaching pedestrians again. He could already spot a few regular customers.

Maybe the Cute Asian Guy would show up today.

One could hope, anyway.

*

Cute Asian Guy didn’t _always_ come in. (Victor knew that “Cute Asian Guy” was a terrible moniker for him, but it distinguished him from Cute British Guy and Cute Non-Binary Person with the Ponytail.) He wasn’t a regular like Christophe, who showed up at the same time every day, rain or shine, and ordered a double-shot espresso which he downed before he even left the counter. He wasn’t Phichit, who was there every weekend and holiday morning and would order whatever the sweetest frozen concoction of the day was. He wasn’t even Lilia, who had owned the coffee shop with Yakov before their divorce. She’d still show up, every two weeks on the dot, to glare at all of them and order completely random coffees before taking a sip, deciding that they were all imbeciles who couldn’t roast a bean to save their life, and would proceed to do it for them.

Yuri idolized her. Yakov tolerated her. Victor mostly ignored her.

Cute Asian Guy didn’t have a regular schedule or a regular routine or a regular drink. Sometimes he showed up and ordered a plain coffee, black no sugar to go. Sometimes he ordered a cappuccino and stayed for an hour, typing madly away on his phone. Sometimes he just wanted a pastry. Sometimes he came two days in a row, and sometimes it was a full week between visits. Once, he didn’t show up for two months, and Victor despaired.

“Just ask for his number already,” groaned Yuri.

“I can’t do that,” said Victor. “You know how Yakov feels about us flirting with customers. Remember Georgi and Anya?”

Anya had been one of their best regulars: frozen cappuccino, every afternoon at two. The size and flavoring varied, but otherwise she’d been perfectly consistent. She even brought office-mates and friends with her, ordering large quantities of coffee. At least, until Georgi had decided he was in love with her and started writing horrific poetry on the side of her cup. She’d eventually dumped a large frozen mocha-raspberry coffee over his head and never returned.

This had led to two weeks of Georgi composing mournful poems for the blackboard outside the shop, which had led to some very confused customers, which had led to Yakov throwing a fit and giving Victor the job instead.

Which had led to the drawing of Makkachin that currently graced the pavement outside the door, because Victor had tried writing poetry, and it had been terrible.

(“Coffee is good, coffee is great, please come inside, we open at eight.”

Which was _fine_ , as far as poems went, except they opened at six. Yakov had thrown a fit when he realized why it was two hours before anyone came inside.)

“Anyway, I _tried_ flirting with him,” said Victor. “I always give him extra whipped cream and the largest cookie or scone and once, I let him have an extra shot of chocolate.”

Yuri snorted. “Yeah, you’re a real Casanova.”

Victor sighed glumly. “Maybe he’s just not that into me. Yuri, I’m cute, aren’t I? I’m charming and desirable and the epitome of all that’s perfect in the world?”

“ _Yakov_!” howled Yuri. “Make him stop!”

At first, it didn’t seem like Victor’s drawing of Makkachin did much good for bringing in new customers. The regulars didn’t comment on the drawing, though one or two complimented Victor on his drawing of a bear.

“She’s a _dog_ ,” said Victor, horrified.

“She’s a _dog_ ,” said Victor, exasperated.

“She’s a _dog_ ,” said Victor wearily.

“Um… I know?”

Victor snapped up from his thousandth double-shot latte. “You – oh. _Oh_.”

Cute Asian Guy stood on the other side of the counter, looking cutely awkward in his typical cute way. His black hair stuck up in a thousand cute directions, and his blue glasses were cutely tilted on his cute button nose. He shifted from foot to foot, clutching his cell phone with his mouth working in strange positions, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to flee.

 _Oh shit_ , thought Victor. _I scared him! I can’t scare him! He’s cute! I want him to like me! Okay, Vitya! Think of something charming to say! Make him fall in love with you so you can fall in love and get married and have lots of sex! And maybe find out his name._

And then, “Oh _shit_!” yelped Victor as the coffee overflowed over his hand. He jumped back, somehow managing to switch off the machine before it got all over the floor. Yuri scrambled over to drop towels on the mess, while Mila grabbed Victor’s hand and went straight to the sink where she thrust it under the faucet.

“Oh, God, sorry sorry sorry sorry!” yelped Cute Asian Guy. “It’s my fault, I distracted him!”

“No, it’s okay,” blathered Victor. “I’m fine, I’m _fine_ , Mila! Let me go!”

But by the time she did, and the mess was cleaned up… Cute Asian Guy was gone.

*

He was just… so… _cute_.

Dark hair that stuck up at the back of his neck.

“It’s just the right length for gentle pulling,” said Victor.

“Ew,” said Yuri.

Blue glasses that framed his brown eyes so nicely.

“Do you think he’s near-sighted or far-sighted?” asked Victor.

“If you’re lucky, he’s blind,” said Yuri.

He was fit, too; sometimes he’d come in after running, all sweaty and flushed. Once, during the summer, Victor saw him reach up, exposing a soft belly.

“I could squish him,” Victor squealed.

“ _Yakov! Make him stop!_ ”

Victor was smitten.

“He said my name once.”

“He has a lisp,” grumbled Yuri.

“He has an _accent_ ,” Victor corrected him. “ _Rowr_.”

“Ugh!”

But the worst part?

Victor didn’t even know Cute Asian Guy’s _name_.

*

It wasn’t for lack of trying.

“Double-shot mocha,” Victor repeated. “What name should I put on that?”

Cute Asian Guy said:

“Yuri!” shouted Yakov from the back. “Have you found the napkins yet?”

Four days later:

“Ohhh, the raspberry iced tea is great,” said Victor approvingly. “Name for the cup?”

Cute Asian Guy said:

“Yuri!” shrieked Mila. “ _Two mocha shots! Two mocha shots_!”

Six days later:

“One jelly donut,” said Victor. “Name for the… uh, bag?”

Cute Asian Guy gave him an odd look. “Since when do you put names on bags?”

“Um… today?”

Cute Asian Guy shrugged and said:

“Yuri!” barked Lilia. “These are the worst excuse for roasted beans I have ever seen. Get down here immediately.”

“Could you stop getting yelled at during inappropriate moments?” Victor asked Yuri, who responded by dumping a cup of cold coffee over Victor’s head.

After that, it was too embarrassing to ask again.

*

Georgi swore up and down that he wouldn’t continue writing poetry for Anya on the chalkboard sign, so Yakov let him resume the job the next day.

Georgi, of course, lied like a lying liar who lies, and wrote such obnoxiously awful poetry (“Anya, you are not Tanya, let me take you to the banya, we can relax in the sauna… with coffee!”) that Yakov gave the job back to Victor.

“Dogs don’t drink coffee,” said Yuri, peering over Victor’s shoulder at the drawing.

“Yakov said I had to do something involving coffee,” explained Victor, adding in some more shading under Makkachin’s ears.

“She looks constipated.”

“Well. She’s drinking _coffee_.”

“And that’s supposed to be _good_ advertising?”

“Cat,” said Victor, pointing in the distance. Yuri’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing as they focused on the stray crouching in the alley entrance.

“Jezebel, you slutty minx, where have you been?” Yuri scolded her. “Hungry? I’ve got food.”

Victor went back to drawing. It was a lot more difficult drawing on a vertical surface in chalk, but he was slowly getting the hang of it. The worst part was trying to erase his mistakes, which were plenty on his first go, enough that by the end of the day, he’d looked at the drawing and thought Makkachin was a bear, too. At least this time, she looked more like a dog, if not exactly like Makkachin herself. The chalkboard version made her look more cartoonish – which probably wasn’t a _bad_ thing. He emphasized her curls and her fluff, and let her tongue loll out a bit more than it would have in real life. The end result was charming, even if her paw holding the coffee cup still didn’t look right. But how would a dog hold a coffee cup anyway? They didn’t have opposable thumbs!

Victor leaned back and frowned. Maybe Yuri was right, it was kind of stupid. Why would a dog drinking coffee entice _anyone_ to come in and buy a cup?

“That’s pretty good,” said a voice behind Victor’s shoulder.

A _familiar_ voice.

Victor craned his neck to look behind him, and in doing so – or maybe in seeing who it was – lost his balance and fell over.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” squeaked Cute Asian Guy. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean to scare you—”

And _wow_ , was Cute Asian Guy adorable from this angle. Tall and angular and flustered and Victor scrambled up to his feet.

“You really think so?” demanded Victor.

It might have been a little bit _too_ demanding. Cute Asian Guy backed up a step, his hands coming up as if to ward Victor off. Or maybe it was the way Victor had unconsciously taken a step closer to him.

“Yeah?” said Cute Asian Guy timidly. “The eyes especially; I like how you’ve made them look really life-like. The fur around them is really fluffy, too, I keep thinking I could give him a pet.”

“Her,” said Victor.

“Oh! Sorry. Her. I’m just used to saying _him_ because of my dog.”

“You have a dog?” asked Victor. “What’s his name?”

And Cute Asian Guy said:

“Victor!” shouted Yakov from the coffee shop. “Are you going to flirt all day or actually do some work?!?”

 _Dammit,_ thought Victor.

“I’m coming,” Victor yelled back, only to turn to Cute Asian Guy for apologies…

And find that Cute Asian Guy had disappeared.

“Dammit,” said Victor.

*

That night, Victor spent a disproportionate amount of time planning how to draw Makkachin next, while Makkachin herself curled up next to him on the couch. It ended up being moot when he arrived to find that Mila had already adorned the blackboard with a cute but unoriginal coffee-promoting phrase in her beautiful but not-Makkachin-influenced handwriting.

“You stole that from the internet,” Yuri accused her.

“Shakespeare had only two original plays,” said Mila with a toss of her curls.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Why are all my baristas talking instead of _making coffee_?” growled Yakov. “ _Get back to work!_ ”

The day went slowly, with no sign of Cute Asian Guy. As did the next, and the next, and the next, for a full week. Mila continued using phrases and ideas gleaned from the internet, Yuri continued to feed every stray cat that came to the door, Yakov continued to yell at them for no reason whatsoever, and Georgi continued to add to his collection of terrible Anya-inspired poetry.

Until Mila’s day off, when Victor was finally able to draw the picture of Makkachin sleeping, exactly as he’d left her that morning. And of course, Cute Asian Guy showed up. Victor had been busy putting away the newly roasted coffee beans, but Georgi had reported that he’d looked for him.

“I tried to tell him you’d be back, but he disappeared like wind through the trees,” said Georgi in his typically overdramatic fashion. “But I think he would have very much wanted to see you, even if only for as long as it took to sear the memory of your face onto his soul.”

Which was probably a fanciful way of saying that Cute Asian Guy was disappointed that Victor wasn’t there. Somehow, that did make Victor feel a little better for having missed him.

“New system,” said Yakov the next day, when a customer finally complained about Mila’s recycling internet memes for the blackboard. “Everyone gets a turn on the blackboard. _No internet memes_ ,” he added with a glare at Mila, who at least looked abashed. “And no blood or guts,” he added for Yuri’s benefit.

“ _Fine_ ,” groused Yuri, already scrolling through the pictures of the neighborhood cats on his phone.

“You’re my good luck charm, Makka,” Victor told her that night, rubbing her scruff while Makkachin snuggled closer under the blanket. “I’m drawing you _every_ time it’s my turn.”

*

Georgi continued to put up terrible poetry.

Mila stopped stealing internet memes, and instead listed the daily specials.

Yuri, in a move that shouldn’t have surprised anyone but did, posted pictures of the cats he fed with brief personality descriptions and a number to call for the local animal shelter. It proved to be so popular that he’d had to replace the drawing twice before noon when the kitties in question were adopted by customers.

Finally, it was the day of Victor’s turn, and he was ready. He had a sketch of Makkachin, dancing with another poodle, who Victor _hoped_ would remind Cute Asian Guy of his own dog.

The Cute Asian Guy would love it. Victor had even left a little space on the Cute Asian Guy’s dog’s collar for his name. Once he found it out.

It was an excellent plan. Cute Asian Guy would admire it, they’d talk for a while, maybe agree to let their dogs actually meet, and then they’d fall magically in love and get married and live happily ever after.

(And somewhere in there, Victor would learn Cute Asian Guy’s actual name. That was a minor problem. Victor figured he had plenty of time; after all, surely the minister saying the vows would have to say Cute Asian Guy’s name aloud, right? “Do you, Victor, take Cute Asian Guy, as your lawfully wedded husband?” Victor could wait until then.)

It was an excellent plan.

It was destroyed the moment Victor woke up that morning to find Makkachin retching up blood next to his bed.

*

Victor was an hour late to work.

“I’m so sorry, Vitya,” Mila said to him, kissing both cheeks before giving him a hug. “Is she all right?”

“She’s stable,” said Victor. The only reason it was easy to say was because he’d had to practice it on the way from the vet’s. Bursting into tears over someone’s caramel macchiato was not a good thing.

“Every great artist must bear their trauma,” said Georgi, which was probably _meant_ to be comforting, and Victor resolved to take it that way.

“Hope the dog gets better,” said Yuri gruffly, which from Yuri, _was_ tremendously comforting.

To Victor’s great surprise, the blackboard was still cleaned and ready for his artwork.

“Thought you’d still want to do it,” said Yakov, without looking at Victor. “If you don’t, I’ll ask Mila—”

“No,” said Victor quickly. “I’ll draw something.”

The early morning rush had come and gone, and there were plenty of pedestrians on the sidewalk now. The sun was high enough that it warmed the back of Victor’s neck. He knew without looking that people stopped to watch him work.

It was easy to ignore them. Much easier than he’d ever found, really, as if the simple act of creating art was also erecting a bubble around him, one that no one was willing pop. Him, and them, and the ephemeral art he was making for their enjoyment.

Victor didn’t know how long he’d been working when he pulled away from the blackboard and stretched his back. It ached and creaked, and his hands felt disgustingly dusty with chalk dust that might never wash clean.

But the blackboard…

A dozen tiny Makkachins adorned the blackboard. The very first time Victor had seen her as a puppy, more fluff and joy than actual dog. The first time he’d taken her on a walk and she’d cheerfully barked a cat up a tree. The time she’d fallen asleep in his lap. The time she’d gone to the beach and been covered in salt water and sand. The time she’d somehow gotten on top of the fridge, with no idea how to get back down.

All of Victor’s wonderful memories, the _best_ memories, his favorite memories. There were more that couldn’t have fit or wouldn’t have made sense.

And then, the memory that stood out the strongest now, the one he hadn’t intended to draw, but found himself doing anyway. Makkachin as he left her in the vet’s office, on her side with an IV line, eyes half-closed, clearly unwell, as a vet tech cradled her head in her lap.

Victor sat back and stared at all the Makkachins, knowing it was time to stand and go inside. He was too exhausted and drained to move.

“Wow,” breathed the voice over his shoulder.

A familiar voice. A comforting voice.

“You drew all of these?” asked Cute Asian Guy.

“Yeah,” said Victor.

Cute Asian Guy knelt next to Victor, peering at the drawing of Makkachin as a puppy. “Oh, wow, she was so little!”

“She was three months old when I got her,” explained Victor. “Runt of the litter – not that you’d believe it now.”

Cute Asian Guy nodded. “Mine too – except for toy poodles, the runts are _really_ the runts. I could hold him in one hand, he was so small.”

Victor chuckled, glancing at Cute Asian Guy’s hands. They weren’t all that small. Any other morning, Victor might have considered how comfortably they’d fit in his own.

Today, Cute Asian Guy used one to trace the scenes Victor had drawn. “I like how you drew these. I can really see how she’s growing up.”

Victor nodded. He ought to say something, acknowledge the compliment, confirm that the scenes progressed from puppyhood to doghood to… whatever Makkachin was in now.

The knot formed slowly in his throat; any minute, he’d lose the ability to speak altogether.

_Ask his name._

_Ask if he’d like to have a coffee._

_Ask if he’s opposed to hugs._

_Ask anything._

Cute Asian Guy chuckled, tapping the picture of Makkachin at the beach, as if it brought a memory of his own. He continued, the smile on the edge of his perfect lips, until he got to the end of the pictures, the last one that Victor had drawn, and sucked in a breath.

The knot closed over Victor’s throat.

Cute Asian Guy seemed to be trembling. “She…” He swallowed. “Is she…”

It took a few tries to work the words past the knot. “It’s a tumor,” whispered Victor.

Cute Asian Guy closed his eyes tight. “I’m so sorry. Is… is there anything the vet can do? My mom always says, where there’s life there’s hope.”

Victor _wanted_ to laugh, but it was too much effort. “I can’t afford hope on a barista’s salary.”

Cute Asian Guy’s eyes widened behind his glasses – and it was too much, too quickly, the sudden look of _something_ there. Pity? Sorry?

Victor didn’t want Cute Asian Guy’s pity. He wanted his name and he wanted a date and he wanted to go on a walk in the park with their dogs and fall in love and get married and have a thousand babies and live happily ever after and that wasn’t going to start with _pity_.

Victor stumbled up to his feet. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be unburdening myself to you, you’re a complete stranger. I should get back to work. Sorry.”

He stumbled into the coffee shop. It was too dark to see properly after having spent so long in the sunshine, but the sudden coolness felt good on his skin, overheated with sorrow.

Work. Work was good, work would distract him. Throw himself into work and forget about Cute Asian Guys and Makkachin waiting at the vet for a cure he couldn’t afford.

He spotted movement at the back of the shop.

“Lilia!” he shouted, and she turned around. “Teach me to roast the beans today.”

It would keep him away from people, at least, and if he burst into tears, no one would notice.

Lilia stared at him down the bridge of her nose, as if she knew exactly why he asked.

“Come with me,” she said.

He followed without another word.

*

At the end of the day, Yakov counted out the tips from the jar and divided them up. Envelopes for Mila, Georgi, Yuri, and Victor.

Except for that day. That day, there was a thin envelope for Yuri… and a very thick one for Victor.

“For Makkachin,” said Mila to a stunned Victor, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We all agreed, you should have it for her.”

“Not me,” said Yuri, waving his envelope over their heads. “Don’t you dare include me! I worked hard for this, and those cats are hungry.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Mila whispered. “He kept enough of his share for his bus fare home but the rest is in there.”

“It won’t be enough,” said Victor, trying not to cry. “The vet said the operation would be a couple thousand…”

Yakov coughed. “I’m not done yet,” he said, and thrust another envelope at Victor.

It was a plain envelope, except for the printed name of one of the local hotel chains on it: Katsuki Resorts and Spa. Inside was a wad of cash, all hundreds with a few 500s at the back, with three words written on hotel stationary.

_For Victor’s Dog_

“Oh my god,” whispered Mila, hands over her mouth. “Is that going to be enough?”

Victor didn’t have to count it to know.

“I have to go,” he gasped, and ran like hell for the vet.

*

The surgery took five hours.

Victor waited the entire time in the lobby, unable to sit, unable to pace, unable to think of anything.

The surgery took five hours.

The veterinarian’s sneakers squeaked as she came down the hall. Victor listened to her walking, heart in his mouth, unable to look at her for fear of what he’d see in her eyes.

“Victor,” she said, so gentle and kind.

Her smile told him all he needed to know.

The surgery took five hours.

It was a success.

*

A week later, Victor returned to work. It wasn’t his day to do the blackboard – Yuri had found a stray with kittens – but Yakov let him have it anyway.

“Kittens can’t leave their mother anyway,” he barked at Yuri, who sulked even though he was half in love with two of the kittens and didn’t want to think about finding homes for them just yet.

Makkachin danced on the beach, carrying a banner that read _Thank you_. There was space enough for a name, but Victor had left it blank.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the woman who worked at Katsuki Resort and Spa, when Victor had called to thank them for the donation. “We haven’t made any donations lately, and we certainly wouldn’t have done it in cash. Maybe it was one of our clients?”

“They want to be anonymous,” Mila guessed. “Or maybe it was a bunch of people.”

“A secret admirer,” said Georgi, eyes full of stars.

“The devil,” said Yuri solemnly. “Why do you care? At least your dog’s better. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I _want_ to thank them,” said Victor. The operation wouldn’t buy Makkachin immortality. But she might have a few years left, and to Victor, that was everything.

Even if he never knew the name of the person who gave him the money, though – they’d see the blackboard. They’d know he was grateful.

He hoped, anyway. Victor finished the drawing and gave it a satisfied nod. It’d work. It _had_ to.

After all… drawing Makkachin had always been his good luck charm before.

“She’s better?” asked a familiar voice.

A hopeful voice.

A timid voice.

Victor spun around and saw Cute Asian Guy standing behind him.

“Yes!” he said, heart no longer in his mouth, knot no longer in his throat. “The operation was a success. She’s been home for the last few days and she’s getting stronger every day.”

Cute Asian Guy looked incredibly relieved. “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad to hear it.”

Victor grinned at him; the relief of having Makkachin better made him bold. “We’ll be able to meet you and your dog for a walk in the park soon.”

Cute Asian Guy’s face froze for a moment. “Oh. Ah. No. I’m sorry. My dog – Yuri!”

Victor frowned, confused. “Your dog is named Yuri?”

Cute Asian Guy frowned at him, equally confused. “What? No, my name is—"

“Katsudon,” yelled Yuri from the doorway. “What the fuck, you’re an hour early!”

“Katsudon?” repeated Victor, confused. “ _That’s_ your name?”

“No, my name is—”

“Yuri!” roared Yakov as Yuri flew across the sidewalk to Cute Asian Guy. “You have _customers_!”

“Whatever, old man!” Yuri yelled back. “This is more important!”

“I can come back later,” said Cute Asian Guy.

“Ignore him,” said Yuri impatiently. “Is it ready?”

“Is _what_ ready?” asked Victor.

“Just finished.” Cute Asian Guy pulled out his phone and showed him the screen. “See, here’s the icon.”

Yuri clutched the phone, grabbing hold of Cute Asian Guy’s hands in the process. Victor tried not to be jealous. “Oh my God,” Yuri breathed. “That is _so cute_.”

“I thought you’d like it,” said Cute Asian Guy, reaching over to tap his phone, and then do some fancy impressive swipey-thing with his fingers. “And here, people can scroll through the existing list of lost and homeless kitties, or they can upload new pictures of kitties they find. There’s a recognition program too. Every time someone uploads a new photo, it scans to see if there’s similar photos from the area, which ought to help catch if people are uploading photos of the same cat multiple times.”

“Wow, man, that’s _clever_.”

“Yeah.” Cute Asian Guy glanced at Victor and gave him a small smile.

“You know each other?” asked Victor.

“Katsudon’s designing an app,” explained Yuri.

Victor’s eyes went wide. “You’re an app designer?”

“Not really—”

“Bullshit, Katsudon, you’re a _genius_.”

“It’s only part-time—”

“Only because you’re rich enough not to have to work like the rest of us slobs,” snorted Yuri. “Shut up and take the compliment, man.”

“It’s only when I’m not working at my parents’ hotel,” explained Cute Asian Guy – Katsudon?

Katsudon.

 _Katsuki_.

“Wait a sec,” said Victor, as everything began to click together. “Is your name _Katsuki_?”

“ _Duh_ ,” said Yuri with a roll of his eyes.

Victor’s heart leapt to his throat. His stomach dropped to his knees. Every nerve went completely haywire.

“It was _you_ ,” he whispered. “ _You’re_ the one who gave the money for Makkachin’s operation!”

The change was immediately. Cute Asian Guy – _Katsuki_ – went beet-red, as if he was mortified. “Ah… yes?”

Victor wanted to throw his arms around Katsuki and hold him close. He wanted to sweep him up and carry him to the most comfortable chair in the coffee shop, bring him delicious drinks and delectable cakes for hours on end. He wanted to wash the man’s feet and kiss every single finger.

(He also wanted to go on a date and walk their dogs in the park and fall in love and get married and have babies and live happily ever after and learn his name, but that could wait.)

“You saved her life.  You saved _my_ life,” breathed Victor.

“Oh my God,” groaned Yuri. “I’m going back inside. Email the specs to me, Katsudon.”

“Sure thing, Yuri,” agreed Katsuki, but his eyes never left Victor’s face.

“You’re an angel,” breathed Victor.

“Um… not really? I just… I know what it’s like to lose a pet. My dog, Vicchan, the one I told you about? He died a few months ago. It happened so fast, we didn’t have time to save him. But I know we would have tried, if there was a chance, so when you said—”

Victor clutched his heart. “Your dog died? Oh, God!”

He’d have to amend his original plan: one dog on walks in the park. Maybe they could get a second one later, when they’d properly mourned for Vicchan.

“It’s okay,” said Katsuki quickly. “I mean – it’s _not_ okay, I still miss him, but… he was a toy poodle, same color as your Makkachin. And I thought—"

“You should meet her,” said Victor. “She’d love to meet you. She’s very good at cuddles.”

Katsuki smiled. “I’d like that. Tomorrow, a walk in the park? It’s been a while since I had a chance to walk a dog.”

Exactly as if he’d been dreaming the same plan as Victor.

“Yes,” said Victor, already picking colors for the wedding to come.

*

It was snowing a little, when they met in the park the next afternoon, but Victor didn’t care. Yuuri was bundled up, and Makkachin was energetic for the first time in days.

First a walk in the park, Victor decided. And then dinner at the restaurant around the corner that let Makkachin in since she was so well behaved.

Which was conveniently around the corner from the pastry shop that had the fabulous wedding cake on display in the window.

Just to scope it out, of course. No pressure.

“Let me introduce you to her,” said Victor, hoping Katsuki’s first name went well with _Nikiforov_. “This is Makkachin.”

(Of course, if it didn’t, Victor Katsuki had a nice ring to it, too. Or maybe they’d hyphenate it.)

Katsuki knelt down on one knee. “Hello, Makkachin,” he said solemnly. “I’m Yuuri.”

Yuuri. _Yuuri_. Which explained _so. Much._

Yuuri, thought Victor, as they darted glances at each other, Makkachin walking proudly between them. Yuuri Katsuki Nikiforov.

He liked the sound of that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Exact prompt: _Could you do a reverse fic with Yuuri being all rich and meeting Victor at a coffee shop who is in desperate need for money to get a surgery on his dog?_


End file.
